Space Cycles
by verkisto
Summary: Life in space, as on land, is filled with many repeating events. Short observations about the routine of life aboard a Firefly. No spoilers.
1. Synthesis

"What's up?" Jayne asked as he sauntered into the mess.

"Shhh, they'll hear you."

Mal was sitting bowed over the table looking like a hunted man, his shoulders hunched up around his ears and positioned in the chair so he could spring to his feet and make a getaway at any moment.

Simon, sitting in a similar posture across from Mal, added in a whisper, "They're not going to kill us, you know."

"And how do you know that?" hissed Wash from his place at the table.

"Because they're not Reavers, they're human beings," stated Book, also speaking in a low whisper.

"I'm not too sure of that anymore," Wash said, quickly darting his eyes back and forth to the doorways at either end of the room.

Jayne pulled a chair out from the table and spun it around to sit astraddle with his forearms resting on the back. "Oh, you're talkin' 'bout the girls," he whispered to the wary group of men. "I thought they was all actin' a mite aggressive lately. I wonder why that is?"

"It's because," Simon explained, "they're in sync."

Mal screwed up his face in puzzlement. "What does that mean, exactly, Doc?" he asked.

"Women who live together," Simon explained, "after a while, all their cycles synchronize to that of the dominant female."

"Well, Zoë's hasn't changed so I guess she's the Alpha female aboard this ship," observed Wash with a note of pride in his voice.

Chuckling quietly, Mal said, "I bet that ticked Inara off."

"Every time I go near the engine room," Simon said, "I can hear Kaylee throwing her tools around and yelling at _Serenity_. It's not like her to badmouth her ship."

"And River's been dogging my heels insisting that the entire Christian doctrine be re-written because men got it wrong," added the preacher.

Mal thought for a moment. "Inara's been throwin' stuff around her shuttle a bit. Almost got hit in the head with a bronze elephant yesterday."

"What are Zoë's symptoms, Wash?" asked the doctor.

"Hard to tell with Zoë, really, except that I've already learned that if I try to touch her I might lose my hands, so I pretty much just keep them in my pockets and limit conversation to 'Yes, dear' for a couple of days until the all clear is sounded."

"Sounds to me like the hens've got free run o' the coop," Jayne observed, grinning smugly. "And that when but one o' the roosters has got crowin' rights. Pretty sad state of affairs, if'n you ask me."

The other four had just opened their mouths to respond to this when they heard shouts booming through the ship evoking the approach of Valkyries to the battlefield.

Zoë: "Wash!"

Inara: "Mal!"

Kaylee: "Simon!"

River: "Preacher!"

Jayne began to laugh heartily and slapped his thigh as the four men leaped up and fled the approaching footsteps ringing out on the decking, but his laughter died on his lips and was replaced by a look of naked fear when he heard all four voices bellow in unison, "_JAYNE!_" and he bolted after the others as though the very fires of hell were licking at his heels.


	2. Combustion

"Okay, people, settle down!"

Mal's yell only just carried over the sound of excited voices and crinkling and clinking credits changing hands as the final bets were placed.

"Now, Zoë, Kaylee, Inara, Wash, Jayne, you all know how this works," he continued in a businesslike tone, "but for the newcomers, I'll just go through the ground rules one more time so's we're all clear."

Mal nodded his head briefly in the direction of _Serenity's_ three paying passengers, Derrial Book and Simon and River Tam, who had stopped paying in cashy money for their passage when it had become clear they were now members of the transport ship's crew of on-again/off-again smugglers.

"Kaylee's rigged up this here – what is it again, darlin'?" Mal asked, his brows angling upwards as he swung his head towards her.

"It's a meter, Cap'n," Kaylee responded dryly.

"Yeah, that meter thingy," the captain continued, unabashed, "to give us all a fair and accurate reading of the final fuel level when _Serenity's_ full up again."

Jayne shifted impatiently in his lawn chair and grunted, "I bet it's rigged." He darted his eyes right and left and was a little put out when everybody pretty much ignored his spiteful comment, including the purported cheater, _Serenity's_ girl-mechanic, who just smiled smugly and stuck out her tongue at him.

Mal glared for a moment at the big mercenary.

"As I was saying," he stated pointedly before continuing, "the meter is the official result of the bettin' and there's to be no fussin' when it's over. The person who gets the closest without goin' over wins. And there's no ties since nobody's allowed to pick the same number."

"Are you wagering, Shepherd?" Inara asked, clutching a slip of paper with her guess written on it.

"Well, since each person determines how to spend the proceeds and I've already decided to donate any winnings to the orphanage on this moon, I can't see that the money is any more or less tainted than the earnings from our, let's say, less-than-legal enterprises," the preacher explained. He licked the end of his pencil before writing down his name and a figure. "In short, yes."

"I already know what I'm going to buy," announced Wash, bouncing up and down in his chair excitedly, "a new shirt."

Zoë smiled at him indulgently. "Ain't you got enough shirts, husband?" she asked, running her fingers over the back of his neck and causing him to shiver with delight.

"Not one with palm trees _and_ dinosaurs on it. I saw one in the shops the last time we fuelled up here," and he leaned over to kiss his lovely wife before she could protest his questionable sartorial taste. "And you, sweetie?" he asked, when he had lifted his head again.

"Chocolate," was all she said, a throaty purr conveying her longing for the heavenly treat.

River turned to her brother. "What about you, Simon?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know," he answered diffidently. "Maybe a new stethoscope if I can find one cheap. My old one gets a lot of use on this ship."

"You should buy something fun, Simon," said Kaylee. "What are you gonna get, River? If you win, that is?"

River, without pausing, replied, "An electron microscope so I can look at my thoughts and categorize them along a logarithmic scale."

Everyone stopped and gazed at her dumbly, unsure of how to respond. Finally, she broke the silence by adding, "That or some blue hair ribbons."

"I think I'd go with the ribbons, _mèimei_," said Inara, her laughter tinkling in the warm, dusty air of the fuelling station. "Jayne, what are you going to buy?"

"Not that it's any o' your business," Jayne growled, "but I'm gonna get somethin' fer my ma 'cuz it's her birthday soon. And stop lookin' at me all sappy like that."

"No surprise here, I'm gettin' strawberries." Turning her head back towards Mal, Kaylee asked brightly, "If you win, Cap'n, what're you goin' to buy?"

"I don't rightly know, Li'l Kaylee," Mal replied wistfully as he surveyed the eager bettors seated around the meter in front of _Serenity_ watching the rising fuel level. "I seem to have everything I want right here."

And the little vagabond family smiled at one another warmly, even Jayne.


	3. Catalysis

Mal banged open his cabin hatch and climbed up the ladder, the heavy fall of his boots causing the rungs to clang at each step. Slamming the door shut and pounding along the passageway, he hurried purposefully towards the engine room which, since he had worked himself up into a supremely foul temper, he reached rather quickly.

"Kaylee, what the hell you think you're doin' orderin' two new replacement parts when we already got one on the engine and one backup? You know we ain't got credits to throw around like we was gorram core folk!"

He stood in the middle of the room, arms akimbo, glaring down at the booted feet and stiff legs in greasy overalls sticking out from underneath _Serenity's_ pulsing engine, the embroidered teddy bear on the brown fabric smiling up at him benignly.

"Next time, Miss Kaywinnit Lee Frye, you talk to me before you go sprayin' money around like it was candy!" he shouted before turning on his heel to stomp back to his cabin and the monthly accounts he had been laboring over for the last several hours.

When he had left, Kaylee slid out from underneath the engine, muttering to herself all the while. "Don't spend but make her fly. I don't know what he wants me to do when stuff breaks down and we're at the back end of nowhere."

Just then, Simon stuck his head in through the doorway.

"Hi, Kaylee, I thought you might like to –"

"What does it look like, I got free time to mess around?" Kaylee shouted, her frown and unaccustomed bad temper startling Simon. "I got work to do here, ya know!"

The doctor raised his hand to his open mouth in wonder as he watched her slide back under the engine on the mechanic's dolly.

_Well, I was only trying to be nice_, he thought indignantly, turning to go back to the infirmary.

Just as Simon was coming down the stairway from the direction of the engine room, Jayne's head popped in through the door by the infirmary leading to the cargo bay. "Hey, Doc," the merc called out, "Got a minute? I wonder if you could have a look. I think I pulled a shoulder muscle or somethin' workin' out yesterday."

Simon didn't turn his head in Jayne's direction or even slow down his pace. He simply shouted brusquely, "Serves you right. You're always overdoing it. Come and see me when you've got a real medical emergency, like a bullet hole somewhere."

Jayne's brows dipped down as his temper flared. That didn't seem right, the doc not wanting to help out. The big man winced as he climbed up the stairs Simon had just come down and the offending muscle pulled. The pain was getting worse and being yelled at when he hadn't done anything wasn't making him feel any better. _Gorram snooty doctor_, Jayne thought. _Guess I'll try some o' my own medicine._

He made his way to the mess and reached up to a high compartment, groping around with the hand of his uninjured arm. There was no doubt about it, his bottle was gone.

"Who's the gorram _húndàn_ stole my likker?!" he snarled to the small group there.

The five people in the vicinity, Inara, Book, River, Zoë and Wash, looked up, each face taking on a scowl of annoyance at the rude interruption of their peaceful activities. Stalking over to the dining table, Jayne yanked a chair out roughly and plopped himself down, glaring at his supposed tormenters over his shoulder.

After a short time, they joined him around the table, Simon returning from the infirmary. Kaylee came in from the engine room to help Inara serve their protein mush supper in silence, the two women slamming down plates and cutlery in front of the assembled crew, who were all glancing suspiciously at one another, their anger palpable in the charged atmosphere.

As they began to eat, Mal entered, stepping jauntily over the bulkhead. He was more than usually pleased with himself, having just finished his paperwork in record time after all the sums had added up correctly for once.

Sitting down at his place at the head of the table and grabbing a spoon to slop a large helping of beige goo onto his plate, Mal looked up, smiled at the assembly of grim faces around him, and asked cheerfully, "So did everybody have a good day?"


	4. Isomerization

"Gorramit, girl, will ya make up yer mind already!"

Jayne was helping Kaylee rearrange the furniture in the lounge area outside the infirmary, by which was meant she would gesture excitedly with her hands, framing out the space a heavy piece was meant to be moved to, and Jayne would do the actual lifting and moving. She had already gotten him to change the position of the couch three times, the coffee table four times, and the table and chairs that had been doing perfectly fine in the corner a total of six times, and he was getting too tired and sweaty and out of sorts for much more of this feminine carry-on.

Giving a decisive nod of her head, Kaylee, fists on hips, surveyed the latest arrangement with satisfaction, saying, "There, that should do it. Now the galley."

Jayne whined pitifully and fell onto the couch on his back, the impact putting it in serious danger of collapsing.

"What you wanna go do that fer, Li'l Kaylee? None o' that stuff's goin' nowhere and we just did it last month, just like we moved this here stuff around last month and the month before that and the month before –"

"Now, Jayne," Kaylee pointed out sternly, "You know the captain likes to have the ship in order, and I think it's nice to have a change now and again, you know, just so's things ain't the same all the time."

"Well, actually, Jayne might have a point." Inara glided down the metal staircase into the area.

"See?" Jayne said self-righteously. Pausing when he realized he had an unexpected ally in the Companion, he turned his head her way and continued. "What's my point exactly, 'Nara?"

"Not all change is necessarily good change," Inara explained. "You might disrupt the flow of _chi_."

"Yeah," Jayne agreed heartily. "What she said."

Simon, who had been half-listening while he worked, entered from the infirmary, wiping his hands dry on a towel.

"You know," he said, "there are theories that contradict that."

Inara raised her chin in the air and looked down her nose regally. "Oh? And what might those be, Doctor?" she asked in a superior tone.

Not to be outdone at a game he knew very well, Simon adopted full scientist mode, even going so far as to cup his chin in his hand and look pensive.

"Well, studies have proven that change, however small, can stimulate the cerebral cortex and help prevent or postpone the onset of many types of dementia."

"So if'n you don't move the furniture around you'll go crazy but you'll be peaceful doin' it? Now that there sounds nuts ta me," observed Jayne, surprising them all with his concise analysis as he sat up on the couch.

The shepherd, who had been standing quietly to one side for a while, decided to throw in his two credits.

"They do say idle hands are the devil's tools, so I can't see that there's any harm in redecorating from time to time."

Kaylee raised her arm and pointed at Book, confirming her agreement with a sharp, "Ha!"

River drifted in to stand in the center of the room, stating, "The wind has blown everything around but the house is still in Kansas."

They all paused a heartbeat waiting to find out if _Serenity's_ resident dancer and psychic would clarify in less ethereal terms.

"The furniture has been moved back to exactly where it was two months ago."

Five bemused faces swiveled around the room checking the veracity of River's statement as she floated out through the door, her work obviously done.


	5. Decomposition

Inara was spending the afternoon in her shuttle sorting through some trunks of clothes she hadn't used in a long time.

"How about this one, sweetie?" she asked, turning to Kaylee, who was elbow-deep in luxurious silks and brocades in another trunk nearby.

"Oh, 'Nara, that's too fine fer me. I'd just get engine grease on it. Maybe we could fix it up for River."

Kaylee's eyes widened as she took the beautiful jersey knit shift from the Companion and stood, holding it up to her shoulders and twirling around so that the hem flared out around her knees.

The two women laughed with delight as Kaylee put the dress on the recycle pile and continued their cull.

* * *

Later that evening, River watched, fascinated, as Zoë deftly pulled a needle and thread through the slinky silver-gray fabric to adjust the seams of the dress so it would fit the young girl's slim frame.

"Don't got as much ta put in the front, I guess," smirked Jayne as he looked on idly.

"You should open a service business. Your motto could be _Jayne Cobb: Crude Remarks For All Occasions_," sneered the doctor from his place on the couch.

Jayne's leer as his eyes flicked from Inara's chest to River's and back again was replaced by a look of awe, however, when River slipped the finished dress over her head and whirled in a circle to show off its beauty for everyone present.

"Thank you, Inara. It's my favorite," she stated as she kissed the Companion on the cheek, her happiness warming everyone in the room.

* * *

Some months later, after River's favorite dress was sporting small rips and stains and was pulled out of shape from almost constant wear, it was undergoing another transformation. Wielding a long pair of scissors this time, Zoë was cutting it into strips and squares, the strips intended as extra bandages for Simon's use; the squares to become dishcloths for the galley and cleaning rags for Kaylee in the engine room.

It wasn't long before, from familiarity and almost constant use of one type or another, the denizens of the small spaceship forgot that the tattered bits of cloth had once been part of a dress fine enough for a Registered Companion, and the scraps eventually found their way, one by one, to the reclamation bin where they would be mulched down and compacted to be sold off at some point when _Serenity_ reached a port big enough to house a commercial environmentals depot.

River, standing absolutely still in front of the bin's hatch, clutched the final piece of cloth, not caring that it was saturated with gun oil and covered in the gunpowder residue swabbed from Boo, one of Jayne's beloved guns. To the others it was just a rag but to River it was still a beautiful dress, and she held it for a moment longer, finally opening up the bin's hatch and calling out a soft "Good-bye" as it slid out of sight and on to the next phase of its existence with the rest of the former garment's fragments.

* * *

Simon, who was quick to pick up on River's moods, noticed that she seemed a bit melancholy at supper and drew her aside afterwards to ask why.

"What's wrong, _mèimei_?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

River dropped her head, letting her long hair shield the sad expression on her face from view and muttered something in a low voice.

Inara, who was nearby and trained to help her clients when they were upset or depressed, made out the words "dress" and "gone" and put two and two together in a flash.

She hurried over, tenderly putting an arm around River's back and letting the girl rest her head against a soft shoulder.

"Your dress isn't gone, River," the Companion explained gently. "It had a long life as a dress and then as pieces and it's still got a lot of work to do."

"It does?" River asked, raising trusting eyes to the older woman.

"Certainly," Inara said reassuringly. "Once it goes into the proper facility, it will be treated and used as fertilizer along with lots of other things. It could help grow food for someone or maybe even a flower or a tree on a border planet."

"It will?" exclaimed River, happy again. "I'm going to go right now and draw the flower it might become."

As River rushed away to her room to collect her drawing paper and pencils, Inara smiled with satisfaction at having helped the young girl in her distress, and she inclined her head in graceful acknowledgement when Simon smiled and mouthed a silent _Thank you_.


	6. Substitution

Days and nights aboard _Serenity_ were the same. The days weren't the same as the nights. Oh, no. Day followed day and night followed night and that's how they were the same. Not particularly interesting, certainly not exciting. Mostly just boring.

Simon was boring. He didn't mean to be, he just was. He was either worried about her, worried because of something she'd done or something she'd said or something he was afraid she'd do or say, losing sleep from worrying or just worried because he spent all his time worrying. So when he wasn't looking, River slipped out through the infirmary door in search of something – anything – a little more exciting.

She found the preacher, as usual, sitting at the table in the mess reading his Bible. Peeking over his shoulder, River noticed that he was looking at one of the sections she had fixed and turned to paper. She paused, a mischievous smile beginning to curl her lips upwards as he flicked the next page over. Then back. Then over again. And back in search of the missing text. This was more fun. Something might actually happen here.

River went up on her tiptoes and raised her arms to the sides holding an imaginary baton in the air. She had seen this done at the many orchestral concerts she and Simon had attended with their parents as children. When the conductor brought his arms and his stick down, the great commotion would start.

She waited, eyes closed, waited some more, peeked one eye open when her arms protested having to stay still for so long, and finally lowered them when she realized that, instead of starting a great commotion, the preacher had merely closed his eyes and begun reciting the missing symbol words by heart.

River moved on, this time to the open door of shuttle one. She leaned into the hatchway and peered around the beautifully decorated room before stepping over the bulkhead and going in. Inara was busy moving some things around. Now here was something that was already happening!

The Companion spoke over her shoulder when she sensed River's approach and said, "Oh, _mèimei_, you're just in time to help me dust. Here, take this rag and go over the bottom shelves, please," but when she turned around to look, there was nobody there.

River, as quietly as wishing, had slipped out of the shuttle. Dusting was already happening. But it could happen without her today. There must be something else going on, something interesting or exciting.

She carefully placed her booted feet one by one on each stair being careful not to make the metal ring out. She could hear them long before she could see them. This was definitely something happening, something interesting, something exciting. But it wasn't happening for River, and she just as quietly turned around on a pointed toe and went back down the metal stairs leaving Zoë and Wash alone in the cockpit, alone in their togetherness.

Gliding like a feather, River walked up behind the captain, who was working something through in his head, mad at somebody or something or mad at himself or mad at them all – could be any one or a combination, from River's experience – and waited until he was about to take a sip of coffee before reaching out a finger to touch his spine exactly in the center between his shoulder blades.

He yelled twice. "Ah!" at the surprise and "Oh!" as the coffee slopped onto his shirt at the front. When he whirled around, River was standing with her hands behind her back, swaying from side to side and wearing her _Don't-blame-me-I'm-just-a-child_ face.

Mal put a hand up to his brow and whooshed out a long breath before saying, "You scared me there, little one. Go and see your brother now. I ain't got time for no games."

He strode away before he could see the sad frown on River's face. It didn't last long, though. She was skipping, running, jumping, leaping to the engine room. Kaylee! Kaylee was fun! Kaylee was movement and sunshine and kind words and yeses instead of no's!

Not today. Today, Kaylee was grease and frowns and split fingernails that hurt and short, sharp words. Impatient words that said, "Sorry, River, I ain't got time right now. The port compression coil's gotta be realigned before we hit atmo or _Serenity's_ not gonna like it."

That left the other one. The big one. The mean one. Black clouds and rude remarks and strong smells. Suspicions and dark and greedy thoughts. But it could be – might be – something. Might be something unpleasant but at least it wouldn't be boring.

River crept into the cargo bay where she heard Jayne knocking around some crates, grousing and complaining and swearing. But he wasn't. When she got nearer, she could hear that he was singing. Yes, it was a very vulgar song, but it was a song nonetheless.

And when she shoved her head around the end of a large container, there he was, smiling, singing, even whistling a bit. Bouncing the hoop ball up against the ship's hull and springing into the air on pointed booted toes to catch it again.

He turned and spotted her and River prepared to run, but he beckoned her over, saying, "C'mere, I need somebody to play with."

He showed her how he had painted marks on the plating and a person could get points by hitting them and stealing the ball from the other player. He said they would add up the points and substitute credits for them at the end to make it more fun.

She asked if they could get extra points by singing and making up songs to sing and he said, "Yeah, and bonus points if they's dirty songs 'cuz that'll rile the doc," and they began to play and laugh and leap and sing, turning the cargo bay into an interesting, exciting, creative, colorful place – although not colorful in the traditional sense – and there was no more boring at all.


	7. Protonation

Shepherd Book lifted the wooden spoon carefully out of the pot and blew on its contents for a moment before taking a taste.

"Perfect," he said, talking to himself. "Just needs about another hour on a low simmer and it'll be ready to eat."

He put the spoon down on the countertop and covered the pot, fiddling with the stove's control a bit to lower the flame before leaving the galley to wash up and read some Bible passages before dinner.

Shortly after the preacher had left, Mal climbed up the ladder of his cabin and turned towards the mess. He was on his way to see Inara to find out where she planned to look for work next. In truth, he just wanted to spend some time in the Companion's shuttle with her, maybe start a fight and watch her get angry with him. Or they might sit and drink a cup of tea. Either way, the planning was a good excuse.

As he came down the stairs into the mess, he could smell the Shepherd's stew bubbling its intoxicating aroma into the air.

"Mmmmmm, that smells delicious," Mal said, coming to a stop near the stove. "Something's missin', though," and he came around and rummaged in a cupboard until he found what he was looking for.

He screwed the top from a bottle of spice with a Chinese label, lifted the pot's lid, and shook a liberal amount into the stew before stirring it with the spoon and replacing the lid. He then closed the jar back up and returned it to the cupboard.

"That should do it," he said before continuing on his way.

A few minutes later, Kaylee came through the aft door of the mess, whistling a tune she had heard on the cortex. She was on her way to see Wash in the cockpit to ask him if he'd go parts shopping with her when they landed on Mariana in a couple of days. There were still some planets in the 'verse where, oddly enough, female mechanics were not respected, and Kaylee had discovered the only way to sometimes even be heard was to have a man with her. And since Wash, unlike the captain, actually knew what an ionizing backflow regulator was, for example, the pilot was the best one to have along.

She stopped whistling when she got a whiff of the stew.

"Oh, smells good," she said, making a detour around the counter to stand in front of the stove. "I know somethin' that'll make it better, though," she declared, reaching into a cupboard to one side below the counter, bringing out a canister and adding some of its contents to the pot.

After putting the canister back and replacing the pot's lid, Kaylee continued on to the cockpit, whistling merrily once again.

The stew bubbled peacefully for a few more minutes, its smell bringing River to a stop at the top of the stairs. She had come to see if some of her colored pencils had maybe slipped under the cushions of the couch, since she couldn't find a particular blue one that she needed for a drawing she was doing of the infirmary for Simon's birthday present.

Going around behind the cooking island, River nimbly hopped up onto the counter then moved her right foot over to the ledge under the bank of small storage compartments on the other side so she was evenly balanced between the two surfaces. She then reached up to the topmost level of doors and opened the latch of the one in the middle, putting a hand inside and bringing out three shrink-wrapped packets clutched in her fist.

Dropping silently back to the floor in one fluid motion, she removed the lid from the stew, tore open the packages, and dumped their contents into the pot, using the wooden spoon to stir it about before putting the lid back and discarding the wrappings in the waste bin under the sink.

After searching through the couch and finding her lost pencil along with a button, a two-credit coin and three missing jacks, River left the mess and its cooking food to return to the infirmary.

Jayne was next in the room, and he paused for a moment and smiled before going around behind the counter and pulling two bottles from a shelf, one filled with a red liquid and one filled with a green liquid. He held them up in front of his face in turn, trying to determine which would be best. Finally deciding to not decide, he added some from each bottle to the stew and put them back before stirring the pot and saying to himself, "This is gonna be good."

Just then, the preacher returned, refreshed and ready to begin serving the supper.

"Oh, Jayne," he said when he saw the mercenary tending to the food, "thank you. I was worried that it might have boiled a bit too dry."

"Seems just fine," Jayne replied, and the men found bowls and spoons and put a big basket of rolls on the table as the rest of the crew filed in and found their places to begin eating.

Jayne dug in and ate heartily, and the others, although they started out gamely enough, were soon dropping their spoons back into their bowls and looking at each other guiltily, avoiding Shepherd Book's eyes altogether. The holy man just sat staring at his spoon, a puzzled look on his face as he rolled the bad-tasting concoction around on his tongue and wondered how it could have gone from delicious to disgusting in the space of one hour.

"This here is right tasty, Preacher," Jayne mumbled around a mouthful of bread and stew. "You sure are gettin' handy in the kitchen."

Eight pairs of eyes turned as one to stare at the big man, who continued eating until he had finished every drop.


	8. Metathesis

Kaylee waited patiently until the chatter of the other eight people in the room died down and trailed off. When she was sure she had their full attention, she reached down to the floor and picked up a large plastic bin with two hands, straightening up to deposit it with a clunk on the dining table.

The mechanic turned it around slowly so they could all see the same two words that she had painted on each of the four sides and surrounded by tiny flowers: _Charity Box_.

"Knew a woman named Charity once," began Jayne, "an' you should'a seen her – oomphf!"

The air rushed out of the big man's lungs as he doubled over from the sharp jab that Zoë delivered to his solar plexus with her elbow.

"Pay attention and don't be rude, Jayne," the first mate said in a conversational tone.

Kaylee glared at the mercenary for a moment before continuing.

"As I was about ta say, this here's a box fer stuff people don't want no more but that's still good enough fer somebody else ta use. I figure we could save it fer churches so they could give it around to the poor or those places that feed people don't got enough ta eat so's they could maybe sell the things off fer cash."

"That's a lovely idea, sweetie," Inara said, "and very considerate of you as well."

Simon looked a little embarrassed and humble as he commented, "You know, if the people on the core planets thought the way the people from the rim did, this would definitely be a better 'verse. The Alliance just throws the poor and hungry into colony ships and sends them off to newly terraformed planets."

Kaylee blushed at the doctor's compliment and lowered her head for a moment. Smiling, she raised it again and continued. "I'll put the box in the cargo bay in the far corner. If'n you got somethin' that you don't got a use for no longer but might be okay fer somebody else, just put it inta the box, _dŏng ma_?"

Everyone agreed and, as the conversations started up again and the crew drifted off in different directions, Kaylee picked up the bin and headed to the cargo bay.

* * *

The next morning, when Jayne was sifting through his storage compartments, he came across an old pair of socks his ma had knit for him years before. They were about four sizes too small but there were no holes, so she must have given them to him in that year he had sprung up like the proverbial weed and he hadn't had the chance to wear them much before he grew out of them.

"Don't need ta keep these, I guess," he said, turning them from side to side. "Sure are pretty, though," and he tucked the green, pink and yellow striped socks into a pocket to put into the charity box next time he was in the cargo bay.

When he got there later in the day and remembered the socks, he went to the box in the corner and peered in. There were already a few things inside, and as Jayne dropped the socks onto the pile, he noticed a stack of five or six paperback books tied together. The one on the top had a picture of a busty woman whose dress seemed a little too small. She was fainting into the arms of some kind of pirate. Man had an eye patch, at any rate.

Jayne looked around behind himself to see if anyone was there. When he was satisfied that he wasn't being spied on, he picked the books out of the bin and took them back to his cabin where he untied the string and inspected the pictures on the other covers. Seemed to be a lot of exposed bosoms and swooning going on somewhere in the 'verse.

* * *

Mal carried a few odds and ends into the cargo bay. One was a pair of suspenders that had stretched out a bit too much and another was a shaving brush made of a low-quality hair. Inara had gotten him a really nice soft-haired brush for his birthday, and since he didn't need two, well, this one could go into Kaylee's charity box.

He dropped his things in and was about to leave the cargo bay when he noticed a very fine-looking handkerchief folded into quarters. Picking it out of the box, he pulled it open and inspected both sides and, satisfied that it was clean, shoved it into his pocket and turned away to go back to doing captainy things.

"Probably Inara's," he said to himself as he walked, "what with the geishas on it an' all."

* * *

Shepherd Book came by next. He placed some decorative candles into the box that he had received while he was still at Southdown Abbey. Candles were not really necessary on the Firefly, since she generated her own electricity with solar panels on the outside of the ship, and it was nice to know they would be useful for someone else.

Before he left, he rummaged around a bit to see what the others had already donated.

"Aha, just the thing!" he exclaimed, picking the item out of the box and tucking it under his shirt. As he went back to his room, he made a solemn promise to himself to look for two things to replace the one he had just taken out.

* * *

Later, after supper had been eaten and the dishes washed and put away, everyone except the captain gathered in the lounge outside the infirmary for a quiet evening of checkers or reading or, in River's case, drawing.

Jayne sat down on the couch, pulled one of his books out from under his jacket, and flipped the first page over to begin reading, concentrating on the words and moving his lips to sound them out in his head.

Kaylee, who had just started a round of checkers with Inara, got up and came around the table to stand in front of the mercenary.

"Jayne," she said.

"What?" he asked, not looking up from the paperback.

"Did you get that from the charity box?"

"I put somethin' else in, don't worry."

Kaylee had to be satisfied for the moment as Jayne was now totally absorbed in his reading, and since seeing Jayne read anything was a novelty in itself, she decided not to press the matter and went back to sit with Inara.

Shepherd Book, who had gone to his room, returned with his Bible and sat down to read, shucking off his shoes and pulling a small hassock over with his toe so he could rest his feet on top of it.

Jayne's attention was diverted from his reading by a flash of green, pink and yellow.

"Hey, them's my socks!" he exclaimed, pointing to the preacher's feet.

"But they're such warm socks and you were giving them away in any case," Book rationalized.

When the only reaction this elicited was silence, he added, "Charity begins at home?"

Everyone chuckled and went back to their activities.

Just then, Mal came into the room, loudly blowing his nose on his new handkerchief, geishas prominently visible.

Inara looked up and called out, "Mal! That was in the charity box!"

"Ain't no more," the captain stated, sitting down next to Jayne and taking a peek at the cover of his book. "Got another one o' those?"

Jayne reached under his jacket again and produced a second book, handing it to Mal, who examined the cover for a moment before settling in to read.

Kaylee, no longer paying attention to her checkers match, sighed as she looked forlornly around the room.

Inara patted her hand and tried to console her, saying, "It's all right, _mèimei_, they'll catch on to the idea sooner or later."

* * *

_dŏng ma_? – understand?

_mèimei_ – younger sister


	9. Redox

Inara raised her hand to her face in time to form a shield in front of her nose as three short, sharp sneezes erupted.

"'choo! 'choo! 'choo!"

She inhaled deeply immediately afterwards, trying to catch her breath, but the stream of air became stuck about halfway into her lungs causing the Companion to cough violently and have trouble drawing in new oxygen.

When she had transferred her hand to her chest just above her heaving breasts, she sneezed again, this time suddenly and powerfully enough to send a spray of saliva and mucous across the mess table and over some of the dishes of food laid out for the crew, who had all stopped eating when they had seen her distress.

Simon was the first to his feet, calling out instructions as he hurried to Inara's side.

"Everybody stop eating that food. Kaylee, clear it all away and dump it. Captain, help me get Inara to the infirmary. The rest of you, wait here until I get back."

"What're you gettin' so riled about, Doc?" Jayne asked, clearly annoyed at having his plate snatched out from under his face. "Ain't like the rest of us is sick."

"And I'd like to keep it that way," Simon called out over his shoulder as he supported Inara under one elbow while Mal looked after her on the other side. "So do as I say. We shouldn't be too long."

Jayne leaned back in his chair, made an indignant harrumphing sound and crossed his arms in front of his chest, scowling at whoever was unfortunate enough to look in his direction.

"Just a coupl'a germs, is all," he muttered to himself, since nobody was paying him any mind anyway.

* * *

The next afternoon, while Inara was still laid up in her shuttle coughing up a sickly yellowish sputum and complaining of aching muscles with a weak voice, Mal began to sneeze. Seems he had been visiting Shuttle One on the sly against the doctor's orders and was now going to pay the price.

"Bed!" was the only word Simon said, pointing in the direction of Mal's cabin and ignoring the man's protests.

"I don't get sick! I'm the captain! Who's going to run the ship?!" he complained loudly as the good doctor herded him up the stairs, stopping every few steps when another violent sneeze overtook his uncooperative patient.

"Well," said Simon, turning at the top of the stairs and fixing his eyes on Wash, "as to that, I think it would be best if we landed somewhere for a while until we see how this progresses. Better than being in space when it's the pilot's turn."

"I'm not sick," Wash observed, self-consciously rubbing a finger under his nose to double-check.

"If you're going to get it, you've already gotten it by now so, yes, you probably will get it," Simon explained, causing Wash, Zoë, Shepherd Book, Kaylee and Jayne to look at each other with puzzled expressions on their faces. The ship's medic then resumed prodding Mal in the back to move him along the corridor.

River, who had been watching and listening carefully, stood up and announced, "Simon's a very good doctor and a very good brother. I'm going to bed," and left to do just that.

* * *

Later that afternoon, the moment Wash had completed _Serenity's_ landing sequence and the ship was secure, he distributed the contents of his upper respiratory system over the surface of the ship's control panel and then let Zoë guide him to their cabin when he could breathe once more. She stayed down there with him, expecting the inevitable, which occurred about an hour later and left both of them lying weak in their bunk, coughing and hacking.

The preacher was next, and he hobbled off to his bed docilely enough, saving Simon the trouble of having to bully him into it.

Since Kaylee, Simon and Jayne were now the only ones left on their feet, they were all working overtime looking after two patients each. Simon had the extra burden of running around to check on each one from time to time, but he seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of energy for this type of thing, and it wasn't until Inara was back up on her feet on the third day and able to do a bit of sick bed tending that he went down for the count.

When Jayne found Kaylee lying on the floor in the infirmary where she had collapsed while searching for more supplies, he tenderly picked her up and got her into bed in the empty passenger compartment. He left her there to fetch Inara, who came to undress the mechanic and make her as comfortable as possible.

And when it was the big man's turn to go down, Wash, who had also now recovered along with Zoë, was tempted for a moment to leave him where he was, lying on the couch in the lounge snuffling like a pig rooting for truffles and complaining loudly through a stuffed nose. But Zoë wouldn't have it, and the two of them managed to get him to his feet and down the ladder of his cabin where they got him out of his clothes and into his bunk, adding an extra blanket and making sure he was covered up.

When he thought in his confused state that Zoë was his ma come to tuck him in for the night and asked her to sing him a lullaby, she stroked his face for a moment and murmured something soothing to settle him down, glaring at Wash after they had climbed up to the passageway again, daring him to make a joke of the sick mercenary's vulnerable condition.

* * *

They spent a full week dirtside waiting out the run of the virus until they were all strong enough once more to resume their journey. There was discussion about where the virus might have come from, and Simon's logical conclusion was that Inara had picked it up from a client on Toledo Prime, an outer core planet that they had just been to so the Companion could find some slightly more lucrative work than she had been able to recently.

Jayne, who had been the last to finally recover and was still quite weak, had insisted on coming out of his cabin to spend some time with the others. He sat in a big comfortable chair, wrapped up by Kaylee in a cocoon of blankets, and listened to Simon's analysis, observing afterwards, "So that's why we was all so sick. Figgers, don't it? They even got a better class o' germs in the core."


	10. Endothermic

Shepherd Book became aware that there was a problem principally because the first drop hit him in the middle of the forehead as he lay on his bed in his quarters. Initially, he thought it was some kind of dream beginning as he was falling asleep, but when it repeated a couple more times and he swiped his hand across his brow and felt the wetness, he knew it wasn't and awoke fully.

He got out of bed to turn on the light for a closer inspection, and it was just in time, too, because as he was reaching for the light switch, the drips turned into a small but steady stream, wetting the pillow where his head had been not too long before.

Book shoved his feet into a pair of slippers and put the robe on that was lying across a chair in his room. He went out into the corridor, unsure of what to do next. Should he alert the captain? Maybe Kaylee or Wash would be the better choice under the circumstances.

As it turned out, he didn't have to alert anyone at all, since the yells of two voices – one male and one female – were apparently going to do the job for him, and he climbed the stairway near the passenger dorm to get closer to the yelling.

His feet took him to the crew shower room, where he almost literally ran into Kaylee and Jayne, each wrapped in a towel and wet from the showers, still dripping and leaving slicks of water on the decking from the water running off of their bare legs and feet.

"Gorram it, I didn't do anything!" Jayne yelled at Kaylee, who was trying to push stringy strands of wet hair out of her eyes with one hand while clutching the top edge of her towel with the other.

"Well, it weren't me neither!" she yelled back at the mercenary, whose towel appeared to be in danger of sliding off of his hips each time he gesticulated with his arms.

The preacher decided it was best to intervene under the circumstances and approached them with arms raised in front of himself, a placating hand turned in the direction of each of the soggy crew members.

"Now, now," he began, "what's going on here? Perhaps if we just have a little chat we can get it all figured out. Kaylee, you first."

Kaylee glared at both the men a little rebelliously but got herself under control when the captain appeared, still groggy with sleep but rapidly waking up from all the commotion.

"I was just mindin' my own business, havin' a shower, when Jayne did somethin' ta make the water rise," she explained in a reasonable tone of voice.

Jayne didn't wait for an invitation to voice his side of the story.

"That ain't the way of it. I were in my stall, mindin' _my_ own business, when this one, who is a mechanic, by the way" – and he paused and fixed the preacher and the captain in turn with a look to underline the significance of that statement before continuing – "pulled a fast one and the shower started ta flood."

As the rest of _Serenity's_ population arrived, one by one, and crowded into the corridor, they were treated to a very loud and wet argument between the smallest member of the crew and the largest as the two tried to out-shout each other and flung water around with their hair and arms, making everybody a little damp.

Finally, Mal had had enough.

"_Bìzuĭ!_" he yelled out loudly enough to be heard over the arguing voices.

When they were all looking at him, he started issuing orders.

"Wash, go in there and see what you can see. Kaylee, Jayne, put some clothes on before I see more than I want to see from either o' you. The rest o' you, go below and see if there's any water damage anywhere that needs seein' to. So that should be plenty o' seein' fer everybody. Go!"

Once they had all jumped to obey his orders, Mal followed Wash into the change room, glad that he was barefoot as he sloshed through a couple of inches of water on the floor and sorry he wasn't wearing hip waders when he went down the few steps to the shower room and discovered that the water here was about four feet deep and wetting his clothes even higher as he sloshed it around.

"They didn't turn off the showers before they came out, did they, Wash?" Mal asked conversationally as he approached his pilot's upturned backside sticking out from the first of three shower stalls.

"I got 'em," said Wash, who was trying to reach his hand down to the shower's drain without ducking his head under the water, finally giving in and taking a big breath so he could submerge.

When he came back up to the surface about a half minute later, he was holding the drain's grille in one hand and something else that looked fairly disgusting in the other hand.

Mal was relieved to see that the water was now draining away rapidly and turned his head to look at the swirling mini-maelstrom to make sure it wasn't going to stop for some reason before he turned back to see what it was Wash had come up with.

At first, it looked like a dead rat. A very large and very waterlogged dead rat. Then Mal made out what it really was, and he looked at Wash, mirroring the distaste showing on the man's wet face with a similar look, and turned on his soaking wet heel to march out of the shower room and storm along the corridor, shouting out as he went.

"River! Gorramit, girl, you forgot ta clear that hair o' yours out o' the drain _again!_

_

* * *

_

bìzuĭ! – quiet!


	11. Exothermic

Wash sat in the pilot's chair, a book held open in his left hand, scissors in his right, comb on the control panel in front of himself. He was snipping the air experimentally, snaking his right wrist around and screwing up his face as though he were trying to imagine something.

When Zoë walked up behind him on cat's feet, the way she always did, he yelled and raised up out of his seat, flailing around with the scissors and putting his wife in danger of losing an eye.

"Whoa, husband," she said forcefully, "calm down. Need that peeper for shootin'!"

Wash put the book and scissors down on the ship's console as he stood, coming out from in front of the chair and grasping Zoë's upper arms, a look of concern on his face.

"You know better than to sneak up on an armed man, honey," he said, apparently seriously.

Zoë snorted a bit before replying, "Armed? With scissors? What were you doing, anyway?"

The pilot stood up straighter and thrust out his chest, smiling proudly.

"Thought I'd learn to do something around here besides just the flying. Like cutting hair."

"Oh, I see," Zoë said, trying to keep a straight face in light of his obvious excitement. "And just whose hair you gonna cut, husband?"

"Everybody's," Wash replied, kissing his wife firmly on the lips and then releasing her to turn back and pick up his book and scissors. "And just as soon as I land this bucket of bolts, I intend to set up shop and get started."

"I heard that!" Mal exclaimed as he stepped into the cockpit just in the nick of time, giving Zoë a good cover for her sputtering laughter.

* * *

When the ship had settled to the ground and Wash had double-checked that everything was in order, he tucked his book, comb and scissors under his arm and strode out of the cockpit, jauntily whistling _Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits_ as he made his way down the stairway to the cargo bay ramp controls. He punched the button sequence to open the doors and lower the ramp, turning to grab one of the lawn chairs and folding occasional tables stacked up against the ship's hull before going down the ramp and into the sunshine where he set the chair and table up, placed his implements and book on said table, and stood beside his makeshift salon, waiting for the rest of the crew to disembark.

Jayne and Zoë were the first ones out of the ship. Wash could have sworn that Zoë was laughing a bit as she followed behind Jayne, but she could have just been coughing from the dust the ship's landing had thrown up, and he changed his facial expression from half-closed, suspicious eyes to a bright smile as Jayne approached the chair.

"Haircut?" he inquired, showing the big man his scissors with one hand and indicating the chair with the other.

"Why not?" replied Jayne, sitting down and shifting around to get comfortable before hiking one booted foot up into the air and resting it on the other thigh.

Wash came around to stand behind his first customer, trying to ignore his wife – who still appeared to be choking – and took a good look at the mercenary's head.

Jayne's hair was about one quarter of an inch long all over his head, and when Wash tried to catch some of it up to start cutting, the hairs slipped out from between the blades of the scissors, rendering their first loud _snick_ completely impotent.

Pausing for a moment and unsure of what to do next, Wash hurriedly grabbed his book, flipping through the pages until he reached the end. He shot Zoë a look of desperation and put the book back on the table, deciding to try the comb and see if that helped.

Nope, didn't. The comb was no better at capturing Jayne's short hair than the scissors alone had been, but Wash figured that he should just carry on full steam ahead as if he actually knew what he was doing.

Scraping the comb all over Jayne's head, Wash moved the scissors near it, snipping into the air as he went. When he figured he had done this for as long as an actual hair cut might take, he took a pace backwards and declared, "There! All done!" with a decisive tone of finality.

Jayne brushed his hand over the top of his head, a speculative look on his face and, apparently satisfied, stood up and turned towards the pilot, saying, "You did a good job there, Wash. Much obliged," and he turned and sauntered away from the chair, not seeing the look of relief on Wash's face.

Next out of the ship was Shepherd Book, and when Wash offered him a cut, he declined, saying something about his order and their centuries-old custom of not cutting their hair before he excused himself to walk to the town, trailing a couple of hundred feet behind Jayne.

Kaylee, seeing the chair and scissors, didn't wait for an invitation.

"Oooh, a haircut!" she squealed, plopping down in the chair and running her fingers through her thick brown tresses. "I like it long, though, Wash, so just a bit off the ends, okay?" and she turned and fixed him with a stern stare for a moment before turning back to the front.

This made Wash so nervous he didn't even ask how much was "just a bit" so he decided to err on the side of caution, gently combing to straighten Kaylee's hair out and snipping an infinitesimal amount off all around the bottom edge.

When Wash had finished and stepped back again, telling Kaylee he was done, she exclaimed, "Already? That was quick!" and dropped her eyes to inspect the ground around the chair to see how much the pilot had chopped off.

"Ain't nothin' there," she said, the frown back in place.

Wash, dragging one toe through the dirt and turning his eyes down and away from Kaylee's face, muttered, "Wind blew it away," and was again relieved when the mechanic accepted this explanation and called out her thanks as she ran to catch up with the preacher.

Inara was the one who looked nervous this time as she exited _Serenity_ and approached the chair, biting her lip when Wash offered her a cut and blurting out that her house had strict rules about how a Companion's hair was to be tended. She flashed both Wash and Zoë a guiltily apologetic look before spinning around and fleeing after Kaylee as quickly as was dignified.

Mal, smiling, thumbs in his waistband, came down the ramp and asked, "What's up?" immediately sitting when he understood that he could get a free haircut.

Wash smiled when he saw the length of the captain's hair in contrast to Jayne's and thought he might finally have a head he could do something with. He attacked Mal's shock of wild growth with the comb, but no matter how he tried to hold it in place so he could cut with the scissors, it seemed to either evade capture by flopping to one side or the other, escape the comb's teeth, or wiggle out from between the scissors' blades like a greased pig at a Founder's Day picnic and slither away.

Once again, Wash resorted to a fake trim, making lots of snipping noises and at least giving Mal a good comb-through before releasing him. The captain assessed the result by running his fingers through it, quickly returning the brown locks to their usual disarray, and commented that Wash had done the cut just the way he liked it.

Zoë wasn't even trying to hide her laughter by this time, and when River – accompanied by Simon – came out and sat down, patiently awaiting her cut, Wash was feeling frustrated and a little out of sorts. He pulled the comb roughly through River's long, tangled hair and finally gave up after he couldn't stand to hear her sharp cries of "Ow!" any longer. She got up and started walking to the town, holding on to Simon's arm with one hand and the back of her head with the other, turning her eyes back to glare over her shoulder at Wash once or twice, leaving Zoë as the only remaining customer.

She dutifully sat down and waited for her haircut, willing to live with whatever her husband managed to do, good or bad, since she could see how disheartened he was.

He picked up some strands of her long corkscrew hair with the comb and pulled them straight, by this time not at all surprised that they should immediately jump free and spring back into place.

Giving up, Wash put the comb and scissors back on the table and leaned down a bit to lay the side of his head on Zoë's breasts when she stood and embraced him, stroking his hair and murmuring conciliatory phrases while he pouted his disappointment in the failed enterprise.

Wash waited a few minutes longer than was probably necessary to repair his ego so he could enjoy his wife's ministrations. Finally raising his head, he kissed her tenderly, then exclaimed, "Hey, I can always learn how to cook!"


End file.
